Since there was barely a soul in the hallways anywhere near that room, Clint honestly didn’t expect anything else. And he didn’t expect one of the doors clear down at the other end of the hall to pop open after he’d only rattled the laundry’s door a few times. It was the Chinese lady who popped her head out, and she smiled widely when she saw who was making the little bit of noise. “I’m glad it is you,” she exclaimed. “Stay there. I fixed your suit.” Clint took a few steps toward her door, but didn’t even make it halfway before she stepped out again. The lady had Clint’s suit draped over her arm as if it was a royal cloak. “I stitched it up as best I could,” she said. “I cleaned, too, but it wasn’t that dirty. Just wrinkled.” When she saw Clint hold the suit and look at it, she asked, “Is it all right?” “It’s better than all right,” he told her. “Honestly, I was just hoping to get my own clothes back. This loaner doesn’t exactly suit me.”
